Survivor's Guilt
by MagicaeArtiumLaudator
Summary: Mrs Hughes is feeling awful after having to testify for the prosecution in Mr Bates' trial. Can Mr Carson cheer her up? Christmas special spoilers. Slight CC/EH.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first Downton Abbey fic which is all very exciting, but I'm a bit out of my Harry Potter comfort zone so please don't judge me too harshly if it's awful! I'm a big fan of Hughes/Carson and really hope (probably in vain) that they'll get together in series 3. I think that Mrs Hughes was not paid enough attention to after she was clearly very upset by what she'd had to say in court in the Christmas special, so I wrote this to let her get it off her chest. It's not intended to be a romance, but there will be hints of it in chapter 2. Enjoy, and please do read and review!**

Mrs Hughes walked quickly through the hallways of Downton Abbey towards her sitting room. She was trying to pass her fast pace off as her usual bustle, but if anyone who knew her well had looked closely they would have seen that she was more upset than harried, her footsteps clumsier and somehow more desperate than as if she were merely hurrying to attend to one of her many tasks.

She had just come from Lady Grantham, to whom she had been recounting the events in court. She had almost lost her composure towards the end of the interview, overcome by the guilt that had been weighing down her shoulders ever since she had been forced, under oath, to speak words that she knew had condemned Mr Bates, in spite of her conviction that he was innocent. Mrs Hughes knew that it had not gone unnoticed by her employer – she had, of course, been gentle in her carefully chosen words about grief, but Mrs Hughes was internally kicking herself for letting her emotions show like that. This embarrassment, coupled by the fact that all day she had been attempting to act normally whilst trying to resist the grief and guilt that had been threatening to engulf her, had left her with a desire to run as fast as she could to her sitting room for some privacy. She knew, however, that this would not do, and thus compromised at a fast walk.

It seemed to take an age to get there, but thankfully she saw no one other than Mrs Patmore and Daisy, who were both busy peering into the oven, and didn't notice her. Finally, she reached the door and barrelled through it, banging it a tad louder than intended behind her. She immediately crossed to a little cupboard where she kept a bottle of brandy, which she used for medicinal purposes only, and poured herself a generous helping. She needed something to calm her down.

As she sank down onto the sofa, Mrs Hughes barely noticed that her hands were shaking until some of the brandy slopped over onto her dress. She brushed at it absent-mindedly, too lost in her thoughts to really care. For her thoughts were the kind that people will always get when disaster strikes someone they know – heightened guilt and a certainty that it was all their fault. This was how Mrs Hughes felt as she thought back to the dreadful moment that the judge had placed the black cap on his head. She barely thought of what Miss O'Brian and Lord Grantham had said, of how they had been forced into corners as well and had had to unwillingly provide evidence that would work against Mr Bates. She had no emotion or thought to spare for logic, for she had always been a kind woman who dedicated herself to helping others; whereas this time, it seemed the only people she had helped were the wrong ones – the prosecution.

Hands still shaking, Mrs Hughes downed her brandy in one. She felt the warmth of it seeping down the back of her throat into her stomach, but it didn't calm her as it was supposed to. Once the feeling of the strong alcohol in her gullet had died down, she didn't feel any different to before she'd drunk it. Placing the empty glass on a table, she stood up and paced around the room, wringing her hands, her mind racing.

It was shocking and heartbreaking enough that an innocent man, a good man who she had known and worked with, was to be sentenced to death. It was made worse by the fact that she was fond of Anna, whose grief was unimaginable. Mrs Hughes didn't think she could bear, on top of all this, the fact that she felt as if it was all her fault. Countless times she went over in her mind the conversation she'd overheard and wished that she'd tried harder to help him. She wished she'd had the courage to say that she didn't remember and refused to give evidence in the witness box. She wished she'd never overheard the conversation in the first place, had never got involved.

By this point, Mrs Hughes had worked herself up into such a state that she was now shaking all over. She felt hot as well – she crossed to the water jug and splashed her face, but it didn't help. Her breathing was fast and shallow, her pulse much faster than it should be and somehow more pronounced. Her stomach was churning, she was sweating slightly and she felt restless and stressed. She'd never had a panic attack before, usually being so calm and composed. But she'd never felt anything near this guilt before. Looking up into the mirror, she saw her own, very pale reflection staring back at her like a rabbit in headlights. There were tear tracks down her cheeks. She hadn't even realised she'd been crying.

As she stood there, staring at herself as if at a stranger, there was a knock at the door. Hastily wiping the tears from her face with one hand, the other resting on the back of the sofa as she took a deep breath, she called, "who is it?"

"Only me," came the reply. There was no mistaking that deep voice. Mrs Hughes did not particularly want Mr Carson to see her looking far from her usual composed self, but she was in no state of mind to think of an excuse as to why he couldn't enter, and so walked resignedly over to the door and opened it.

"Come in," she said, looking at a point over his shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he closed the door, brow furrowed as he took the red patches on her cheeks where she'd scrubbed the tears away, still watery eyes and slightly twitchy movements.

"As well as can be given the circumstances, thank you, Mr Carson," she replied, with a valiant attempt at briskness and even a quick glance into his eyes in an attempt to make him believe her. "Are you?"

He didn't answer this, still regarding her worriedly. The brief eye contact had far from convinced him – the sorrow in her eyes did not match her less than believable reply.

"What did you want?" she pressed him, knowing she was being irrational but too annoyed that he'd walked in on her in the midst of her grief and was now simply staring at her.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"Well?" Mrs Hughes demanded.

"It's not important. I can see you've got enough on your mind, Mrs Hughes. Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

"No I don't, because there's nothing to talk about." Mrs Hughes replied, swallowing the lump in her throat. The temptation to get it all off her chest was huge, but her sense of pride and habit of composure forbade her from giving in to it.

"Elsie…"

His gentle tone and use of her first name wasn't helping. This time, Mrs Hughes had to blink fiercely before saying, in a calmer voice she hoped would convince him that she was fine to be left alone, "Please, Charles. Leave me be." Seeing that he still looked very unsure, she added, "I'll be fine."

"Well…" he replied slowly, "If you insist. But if there's anything you need, you know where to find me."

"Thank you, Mr Carson." She gave him a forced smile.

"Goodnight, Mrs Hughes." He returned it sadly, inclining his head slightly. Then he was gone.

As the door closed behind him, she let out the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding and walked back to the sofa. She felt unsteady on her feet, and as she sat down a wave of fatigue swept over her. She had calmed down now – perhaps because she had had to force herself to in order to face Mr Carson, perhaps because the sight of a friendly face had helped more than she'd realised – but the aftermath of her panic was sadness and exhaustion. Wearily, she dragged herself back to her feet and off to bed, pulling out her hairpins as she climbed the stairs to her room. Once inside, she pulled off her black dress and threw it unceremoniously over a chair, fumbled her way into her nightgown and collapsed into bed, asleep within seconds.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Afternoon all! Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed chapter 1, reviews are my favourite thing; please keep them coming! I'm bogged down with uni work at the moment but I already had chapter 2 written - I was going to wait a couple of days before I published it but I enjoyed writing it so much I couldn't resist! Chapter 3 will be a bit longer coming because I need to consult the Christmas special and then actually write it. Before I let you get on with reading this, I feel I must draw everyone's attention to the Jonathan Ross clip "A Very Carson Christmas". Those who haven't seen it, YouTube it NOW (well... after you've read and reviewed ;) ), it's amazing! Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this - particularly the second half of the chapter; there is some fluff! L x**_  
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_She was sitting at the kitchen table, wearing her coat and hat and apparently ready to go somewhere, but she couldn't remember where she was going. All the other servants were there, but they were sitting as far away from her as they could, muttering to each other under their breath, and all seemed to be on edge. Suddenly, Mr Carson stood up._

"_Well, come on everyone… It's time."_

_As one, they stood and began to shuffle towards the door. Mrs Hughes, perplexed, hung back and asked Mr Carson in a low voice "time for what?"_

_He merely gave her a withering look before hurrying off after the rest of the staff. Upset and anxious, Mrs Hughes followed, but try as she might to catch up she seemed to be a step behind the rest of them all the way there._

_Where 'there' was, she soon found out, to her absolute horror. One hand flew to her heart, the other to her mouth, her stomach lurching as she took in the scene before her. All the inhabitants of Downton Abbey, along with a huge crowd of strangers, were gathered some distance from, but in good view of a set of gallows. Standing on the platform, guarded closely, was John Bates. _

_Mrs Hughes' immediate urge was to turn and run, but before she could get more than half a pace she was interrupted by the lawyer who had argued for the prosecution. _

"_Ah, Mrs Hughes. We've saved you a spot right at the front. It's all down to you, after all, that we are able to give this cold-hearted murderer the punishment he deserves."_

_Aghast, she tried to explain that she hadn't meant to accuse him, that he was innocent and she didn't want to watch him die – but for some reason she couldn't get the words out; her brain felt confused. As she was led, helpless, towards the front, she felt people pat her on the back and congratulate her. It made her feel sick to her stomach. When she was deposited in her place, she looked over towards the crowd from Downton Abbey – but those who were not too busy crying into their hankerchiefs or each others' shoulders were glaring at her. Mr Carson was holding Anna, who seemed to be beside herself. He gave her a look that said plainly, 'this is all your fault'._

_Feeling panicky now, Mrs Hughes began to look around for a pathway through the crowd; she had to escape, she couldn't stay here. But the lawyer grabbed her arm and said, in sickening excitement, "look, it's starting!"_

_Sure enough, Mr Bates now had a black bag over his head. Mrs Hughes felt faint, but people were pressing in on her from all sides. She tried to look away, but the lawyer grabbed her and turned her round, forcing her to watch, as if she was supposed to be enjoying it. As the trapdoor opened, Mr Bates dropped, and it felt like she was falling too – she screamed, and screamed and screamed, until-_

"Mrs Hughes?"

"Mrs Hughes!"

Her eyes sprung open and her scream turned to a gasp as she scrambled upright on her pillows, looking around wildly. Anna and Miss O'Brien were standing by her bed – O'Brien with a hand on her shoulder, Anna holding her hand.

"What happened?" she asked, disorientated and unable to remember why she had been screaming.

"You were having a nightmare," Anna said gently, while O'Brien nodded.

Suddenly the memory of it returned, and Mrs Hughes, remembering the gallows, closed her eyes and resisted the urge to retch for a moment before taking a deep breath to steady herself and looking back at Anna. Even in the darkness the bags around her eyes were obvious – she clearly hadn't been to sleep yet.

"I'm sorry, Anna, go back to bed. I'm alright now. Thank you," she said, with a brave attempt at a smile and another worried glance at her.

Anna nodded and squeezed her hand before leaving the room. O'Brien stood up straight and surveyed her, saying "you're sure?"

"Yes, thank you Miss O'Brien. I'm sorry for the disturbance; I don't know what got into me. Thank you for your concern."

After she too had left, Mrs Hughes sank back into her pillows and sighed. She was wide awake now, the memory of that horrible dream going round and round in her head. She decided to go downstairs and get a cup of tea and so, slipping out of bed and finding her dressing gown and slippers, she lit a lamp and proceeded out of the door, which she closed quietly behind her.

Once in the kitchen, she extinguished her lamp and turned the lights on, filled the kettle with water and placed it on the stove, then sat wearily down at the table to wait for the kettle to boil, trying to keep her mind off her dream. It was difficult, though – everything she looked at seemed to remind her of Mr Bates, or Anna, or both of them.

Suddenly, she heard the stairs creak. She looked up at the door just in time to see it opening to reveal Mr Carson, clad in a long dressing gown and slippers, his hair tousled and his eyes slightly bleary from sleep.

"Good evening, Mr Carson," she said, watching him walk over towards the chair next to hers.

"Mrs Hughes," he answered, sitting down. He looked at her discerningly. "I thought I heard you coming downstairs."

"How did you know it was me?" she asked, blushing slightly as she already knew what the answer would be.

He looked a bit uncomfortable. "I heard you…"

"Oh." She said, looking down at the table.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

She looked at him, unsure. His eyes were full of compassion; she knew if she could talk to anyone it would be him. It was always him. But she worried that he would think she was overreacting; it was, after all, Anna's husband who had been sentenced to death, not hers. But then again, she mused, it was more guilt than grief that was her problem…

He met her gaze calmly. He was not trying to force her into talking, merely letting her know that the option was there and he wanted to help her. "A problem shared is a problem halved," he reminded her.

"Well… Alright then. Yes please." She gave in, taking a shaky breath as she thought about how to phrase what was bothering her.

"I'll make some tea," Mr Carson said, leaving Mrs Hughes to think about what she was going to say. When he came back with two steaming cups of tea, she took one from him with a smile that came out more like a grimace and cradled it in her hands, letting it warm her up.

He sat across from her. Seeing that she didn't know where to start, he asked, "Was the bad dream related to what was upsetting you earlier?"

Mrs Hughes didn't even bother to deny it this time; he always knew when something was bothering her, as she did him. "Yes," she replied.

"What was the dream about?"

She took a deep breath and set her tea down on the table. "Mr Bates."

"Ah. What happened?"

Mrs Hughes took a moment to compose herself, before beginning to tell him about the dream. "We were all in here, in our hats and coats. Everyone seemed to be avoiding me. You said it was time to go, and when I asked you where, you ignored me. You all walked off and I followed, and we ended up at… at Mr Bates' execution. You went to stand with the rest of the staff and the family, but that damn lawyer who twisted all my words in court dragged me off to the front. He said they'd saved me a special spot, he said because it was all down to me, and I saw you comforting Anna and you glared at me, and I tried to run away but they grabbed me and forced me to watch as he... as…"

But she found at this point she could not go on. Her voice had grown slightly hysterical as she'd talked, her eyes had filled with tears and there was a lump in her throat preventing her from speaking anymore. She blinked furiously, angry with herself for showing emotion to Mr Carson like this, and once again looked down at the table, unable to meet his eyes.

Just then, she felt him take hold of her hand. Her heart beat slightly faster. She looked up again, and the expression on his face was so tender that she wasn't able to stop a tear leaking out.

"Elsie…" he said quietly, his low voice soothing, "It was just a dream, it wasn't your fault…"

"It was though," she choked, "in court, I had to tell them what I told you at the time. How he called her a bitch and threatened her. They didn't give me a chance to explain, mine was probably the evidence that convinced the jury, and I don't think I can stand the guilt. Thanks to me and my inability to keep my mouth shut, an innocent man, a good man is going to die!"

Mrs Hughes was crying properly now, but she found she didn't even care. In spite of her sorrow, she could feel that getting it all off her chest was doing her some good. And so, when Mr Carson moved his chair round the table so he was next to and facing her, reached out and pulled her into his arms with a gentle "come here", she didn't object, but buried her head in his shoulder, taking comfort from the softness of his dressing gown against her cheek, the smell of him and the feeling of his arms around her, and sobbed.

"It was the fault of the prosecution, not you," he murmured into her ear, "they should be the ones feeling guilty. You were under oath, you had no choice, and they didn't ask for a fair account. Don't upset yourself about it; I've never known anyone kinder or less likely to knowingly and willingly condemn an innocent man than you."

His words were calming and Mrs Hughes felt her sobs begin to recede. He stroked her hair as she calmed down, and when she felt him gently kiss the top of her head, she couldn't help but smile slightly into his dressing gown. He was acting more affectionately towards her than she'd ever seen him act towards anyone else, but she found she did not mind a bit. She'd always had feelings for him, and if she hadn't been so preoccupied she would have been beaming like an idiot. Now was hardly appropriate for such things, though.

Having stopped crying altogether now, she reluctantly pulled away and looked into his eyes. He met her gaze steadily, waiting for her to say something. His hands had slid from where they had been protectively placed around her shoulders down her arms and he was now holding both of her hands in his. She looked down at their linked hands.

"Thank you," she whispered. She couldn't explain to him what it had meant that he had allowed her to tell him how she felt and hadn't brushed her off, but had even eased her cares and provided the shoulder to cry on she'd so desperately needed.

She didn't need to explain, though. He knew, because he knew her almost as well as she knew herself. He smiled at her and patted her hands.

"There's no need to thank me. I was concerned; I'm glad you confided in me and I hope I managed to help?"

"Yes, you did," she replied, with a slight smile of her own.

"In that case, might I suggest you go back to bed? You need some rest."

Mrs Hughes nodded, and Mr Carson stood up, pulling her with him.

"I'll escort you. I want to make sure you get to bed alright and I need to come back down here to clear up the cups anyway."

She began to protest but he shushed her, squeezing her shoulders and saying, "I insist."

She looked up at him with the intention of thanking him again, but her words got lost as she caught her breath. They were standing very close together and he was looking at her very intensely, with something incredibly caring in his eyes. They stood for a moment, simply gazing at each other, until the clock on the wall chimed 3am, bringing them back to their senses.

Mrs Hughes turned and left the kitchen, Mr Carson following her up the stairs and into her room. He took her dressing gown and slippers from her and put them away, ushering her into bed. She slipped back between the sheets and settled back onto her pillows, feeling much more relaxed than the last time she'd been there. He walked over to her and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Thank you, again, Charles," she said, stifling a yawn even as she said it.

He smiled down at her again and it warmed her heart to see it. He reached out and ran a gentle hand through her hair, then, to her pleasant surprise, leant forward and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"Goodnight, Elsie."

Her eyes were half closed by now, and the last thing she heard before she fell into a thankfully restful sleep was him tiptoeing out of her room, shutting the door with a quiet click behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I am soo sorry for how long it's taken me to update this! Everything's pretty manic at the moment, I've got a ridiculous amount of work to do for uni AND a stinking cold. Please be patient with me! This chapter's not my favourite; not much really happens – I'm just filling in the days from Mrs Hughes' POV before they hear Mr Bates' fate. It'll pick up in another couple of chapters though, promise! Thank you to everyone who's reviewed, favourited, subscribed etc so far and please please please keep reviewing! I've also realised that I've not said it yet – I do not own Downton Abbey, unfortunately. I also feel I should point out that some of this chapter (part of the second Anna/Hughes dialogue) is taken from the Christmas special. Happy reading!**

Mrs Hughes awoke two hours later to a bit of a headache and a stiff face, from where her tears had dried. It took her a moment to remember why she had been crying, and when she did, she let out a sigh, worry once more creeping over her features. She felt much less distressed than she had yesterday, thanks to Mr Carson, but she wouldn't stop worrying until she knew whether Mr Bates had been reprieved. If he hadn't, it didn't bear thinking about, and she would endeavour not to until she had to. And so, it was still with a heavy heart that she left the warmth of her bed, washed, dressed and arranged both her hair and her facial expression ready for another day.

Three quarters of an hour later, Mrs Hughes entered the library. She had almost finished her morning rounds and so far had had very little to do – despite being subdued, the staff were as efficient as ever and she'd found little to criticise, so far. She saw to her satisfaction that Daisy had already lit the fire, although it would need kindling later on in the morning. As she left the room, her thoughts strayed to Daisy. She was sure that something other than Mr Bates was bothering her, and was wondering mildly whether she should intervene when she ran into Mr Carson, who was coming out of the dining room.

"Good morning, Mrs Hughes," he said, "everything in order?"

"Morning, Mr Carson," she replied, feeling a bit embarrassed and averting her eyes. "Yes, I'm on my way downstairs now. What are you up to?"

"I'm going downstairs as well."

She nodded, and they walked in amicable, but slightly awkward, silence. However, as soon as they got downstairs, he said, "may I have a word with you, Mrs Hughes? In here?"

"Of course," she replied, much more calmly than she felt. She knew he was going to talk about the previous night and, although she appreciated the way he'd been there for her, she was embarrassed about the fuss she'd made. However, she arranged her face into what she hoped was a calm expression and followed him into his pantry.

As soon as Mr Carson had shut the door, he turned to face her and got straight to the point.

"Are you feeling better?"

She almost smiled at the urgency in his tone; it was clear he'd been waiting to ask this all morning.

"I am, thank you. I still feel a bit guilty, but I've come to terms with the fact that I had to answer the questions put to me. Other than that, I feel the same as the rest of you."

He looked relieved. "I'm glad to hear it. I know it's not likely, but personally I'm focusing on the chance of his being reprieved."

"I'll try to do the same," Mrs Hughes replied. "I suppose we'd all just better keep our fingers crossed."

"Indeed," Mr Carson said with an optimistic smile, clearly relieved that she wasn't blaming herself anymore.

She returned it slightly shyly, simply saying, "Let's go for breakfast."

When they entered the kitchen, they found it was much quieter than usual. Thomas was looking worried and kept checking his watch. O'Brien was watching Thomas. Anna was staring blankly at the table in front of her, Daisy was serving breakfast, looking sullen, and Mrs Patmore was at the stove with her back to everyone.

Mr Carson took his place at the head of the table, and Mrs Hughes her seat on his right. She glanced at Anna, who still looked shell-shocked, and resisted the urge to go and give her a hug. She would talk to her later. It wouldn't do for people to start thinking she was going soft – she was, after all, their formidable housekeeper and as such commanded a degree of respect that would not be there if she were to become thought of as a push-over.

Breakfast was uneventful. Thomas ate quickly and left early – Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson exchanged a look, a mutual agreement that they needed to keep an eye on him. Nobody ate very much; they were all tense, waiting for news of Mr Bates. As soon as breakfast was over and everybody had gone off to do their respective jobs, Mrs Hughes went straight to her sitting room. Having had a day off working yesterday due to the trial and then not feeling up to it, she had paperwork to catch up on. Trying to concentrate solely on what needed ordering for the store cupboard and whether or not they needed to take on a new maid, she engrossed herself in her work and didn't look up until mid morning, when she was interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," she called, standing up and turning round.

"Mrs Hughes?" It was Anna, looking as miserable as ever. Mrs Hughes' heart went out to her.

"Ah, Anna," she said with a kind smile, "Sit down."

"Thank you." Anna perched on a chair by the door, and Mrs Hughes sat in the armchair that faced it.

"What can I do for you?"

"I wondered if I might take the afternoon off to visit Mr Bates?" she stuttered slightly over the name, clearly fighting back tears.

"Of course," Mrs Hughes replied, feeling thoroughly sorry for her, "take as much time as you need. We'll manage."

"Thank you," Anna said again, with a forced smile. "By the way, Mrs Hughes, on my way down here I noticed the fire in the library was almost out, shall I go and mend it?"

"Wasn't Thomas around? That's his job, not yours."

"I know, but I haven't seen him all morning."

Mrs Hughes frowned. She'd been feeling suspicious of Thomas ever since his behaviour at breakfast and now he seemed to be missing she felt even more so.

"Thank you, Anna. Are the family around? If not, Daisy can go and fix the fire."

"Her Ladyship's still in bed, His Lordship's out looking for his dog, she's gone missing, Lady Mary's gone to bury Lavinia's father's ashes with Mr Crawley and Lady Edith said something about going for a drive…"

Feeling relieved, Mrs Hughes nodded and dismissed her, then proceeded to the kitchen to find Daisy. She didn't want Anna to be late because of having to do Thomas' work on top of her own, and if no-one was around to see, there would be no problem with Daisy quickly going to sort it out. It might, Mrs Hughes thought drily, do her good to have a few minutes away from Mrs Patmore.

Upon leaving her sitting room, she spotted Daisy immediately, chopping carrots.

"Daisy?" she called as she approached.

"Yes Mrs Hughes?"

"Could you run upstairs and mend the fire in the library please? And make sure nobody sees you; they're all busy so you should be alright."

"Yes Mrs Hughes." She scurried away, wiping her hands on her apron. Mrs Hughes looked after her, a slight crease forming between her eyebrows. Daisy needed to stop being so timid; she was good at her job and deserved to be thought more highly of than she was. She sighed. Daisy would be fine for the moment; her primary concern was Thomas and where he was, and as such she left the kitchen and made for Mr Carson's pantry.

The door was open when she arrived; she could see him counting bottles of wine at his desk. She knocked at the doorframe as she entered, speaking as he looked up.

"We need to talk about Thomas."

"Ah. What's he done now?"

"He's not on duty. I've had to send Daisy up to mend the fire in the library."

"What? But she might be seen! Why didn't you come to me?"

"Because it's not your job and she'll be fine, Anna told me that everyone was busy elsewhere. My concern is not that Daisy is in the library at this time, but where Thomas is." Mrs Hughes said exasperatedly.

His eyes met hers, then he looked away, defeated. He could tell she wasn't in the mood to let him rant on about the proper way things should be done.

"Well, he hasn't asked me for time off, so he must be somewhere in the house."

"I don't think so; Anna said she hasn't seen him since breakfast. Why can't we get rid of him and employ someone more reliable?"

"Because we don't have anything on him that we can prove, and every time he gets close to being fired he does us some sort of favour. He's too cunning. And when he's doing his job, he's good at it."

"But surely taking everything he's done into consideration? The stealing, the bullying, the leading Daisy astray, the stirring?"

"Well, I'll speak to His Lordship about it tomorrow. At the moment he's too worried about his dog to spare thought for Thomas."

"Thank you," Mrs Hughes said in relief, "I think he'll listen to you, he values your opinion."

"You flatter me." Mr Carson was clearly trying not to look too pleased; it was rather endearing.

"I say it because it's true. What's happened with Isis, anyway? Anna mentioned that she'd gone missing as well."

"Nobody's seen her for hours. It's very odd; you know she usually follows him around everywhere…"

The fact that Thomas and Isis had both gone missing at the same time was staring her in the face, but Mrs Hughes' usually quick mind was elsewhere, and she didn't make the connection.

"Oh, the poor man. Anyway, I suppose I should be getting on…" she didn't particularly want to leave Mr Carson's company, if she was honest, but Mrs Patmore's reaction if she hadn't got everything for dinner tonight out of the store cupboard soon was nagging at her from the back of her mind.

Mr Carson seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "Yes, I wouldn't envy you having yet another battle with Mrs Patmore over the store cupboard key."

She smiled briefly at him, before bidding him good day and leaving his pantry. Unfortunately, she was too late – Mrs Patmore was standing outside her sitting room, looking impatient. Sighing, she approached her, bracing herself for the tirade. It was going to be a long afternoon.

Nine o'clock that evening found Mrs Hughes sinking into her armchair, a glass of wine in one hand. She'd been right – it had been a long afternoon. She and O'Brien had shared Anna's duties between them, which she had gladly done, but the extra work on top of what was already a difficult day had made her very tired, not helped by her disturbed night's sleep the night before. She could hear the servants playing their ridiculous game again in the kitchen, but couldn't be bothered to go and reprimand them. In the shadow of her tiredness, her worry seemed harder to bear, as is always the case when one is tired. She found herself, once again, dwelling on Mr Bates.

Her reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Come in," she said tiredly.

It was Mr Carson, of course. He was wearing his hat and coat; she shot him a puzzled look.

"Oh, Mr Carson, what can I do for you?"

"I'm just letting you know that His Lordship has asked all the menservants to join him on a search for Isis, so we're off now. By the way, Thomas turned up; apparently he had to go and send a telegram and couldn't find either of us to ask permission before he left."

"And you believe him?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I'm not sure. We'll see."

She nodded. "Good luck with the search, I hope you find her."

He smiled at her, looking almost as tired as she felt. "I hope we do too."

After he'd gone, Mrs Hughes finished her wine then stood up, thinking she ought to go and check round the house – in the absence of Mr Carson, she wanted to make sure everything was in order. It wasn't wholly necessary, but she needed a walk to wake her up.

By the time she got back after her uneventful rounds, she did feel more awake – but she also felt more restless. She'd kept an eye out for Anna as she checked round the house, but there was no sign of her. Mrs Hughes assumed she was in her room, and wondered whether she ought to go up and check on her, or whether she would want to be left alone.

As she sat at the table in the kitchen, making half-hearted conversation with the other female servants over tea and trying to decide what to do about Anna, Thomas burst in, looking flushed.

"Mrs Patmore, Mr Carson sent me ahead to ask you to warm up some soup for the searchers."

Mrs Patmore nodded, depositing her cup in the sink and heading over to the stove, calling imperiously to Daisy as she went. Mrs Hughes stood up. She imagined that the others were not far behind, and she wanted to know about the search, so she went back to her sitting room to await Mr Carson's arrival. Distracted as she was, she didn't fail to notice O'Brien and Thomas sneaking off, clearly to have one of their plotting sessions.

Five minutes later, Mr Carson returned.

"Well?" she asked him, without a greeting.

"No sign of her," he replied, removing his hat.

Mrs Hughes wrung her hands together and started pacing, feeling a bit distressed.

"You'd think the Good Lord would've spared him the loss of his dog at a time like this."

"Ours not to reason why."

She decided to ignore this, and continued pacing.

"When will we hear about Mr Bates... I don't know how they've kept it out of the papers. I suppose that'll change wh- If it goes ahead." She glanced at Mr Carson in time to see him shoot a concerned glance at her. She realised he probably thought she was going to start crying again, but the difference between last night and this was that she didn't feel quite as guilty now, and she'd had time for the shock to wear off. She still wanted to talk about it though; it was still bothering her greatly.

"I can't bear to think of it; how will Anna bear it?"

He looked at her. "As the widow of a murderer. She'll have to get used to a degree of notoriety I'm afraid... And so will we as the house that shelters her."

As he turned round, Mrs Hughes could see round him to the doorway – Anna was standing there, looking slightly stricken. Mrs Hughes, feeling a horrible pang of guilt, closed her eyes briefly, and made a silent vow to always close her door when talking about other people.

Anna merely said, "Then let me put you out of your misery right away, Mr Carson, by handing in my notice."

Slightly aghast, Mrs Hughes looked to Mr Carson. He understood, and gestured Anna into the room, stepping aside slightly. Mrs Hughes, feigning calmness, turned to her.

"You don't mean that."

"Yes, I do. If I stay here, I'll keep the story alive. If I go away to Scotland, say, or London, it'll die soon enough. I'll just be one more housemaid lost in the crowd."

Mr Carson chipped in, "She has a point."

Mrs Hughes shot a look at him, resisting the urge to hit him. She loved Charles Carson dearly, but sometimes he really could be insensitive… In her opinion, Anna could never be "just one more housemaid lost in the crowd".

"Not one that I accept," she said firmly, looking back at Anna.

"I mean it, Mrs Hughes. I do," she said, her resolve obviously cracking.

Mrs Hughes sighed and took a step closer to Anna, meeting her eyes.

"I can't refuse to accept your notice. However, I want you to know that if, at any point, you want to retract it, I will wholeheartedly support that. I shan't be looking for your replacement until I am absolutely sure there is no chance whatsoever of your staying."

Anna's eyes filled with tears, but she nodded determinedly, and with a quiet "thank you", she bade them both goodnight and left.

Mrs Hughes turned back to Mr Carson, who said gently, "I need to go and serve the soup."

"Yes," she replied, suddenly feeling overcome by tiredness again. "I think I'll say goodnight."

"Goodnight, Mrs Hughes," he said, squeezing her shoulder as he left the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I am so sorry, again, for the late update. Basically I've got January exams and loads of assignments so I'm very stressed and busy at the moment, but after Tuesday things will be considerably quieter so I will definitely have the next (and probably final) chapter up by next weekend :) thank you for your patience and your reviews, please do keep sending them! There is nothing I love more than logging on to my email to see a review alert! **

When she entered the kitchen the next morning, Mrs Hughes was immediately struck by the feeling that something was missing. She paused for a moment to work out what it was, before realising that Mrs Patmore wasn't shouting at anybody – because Daisy wasn't there.

"Mrs Patmore?" she said, approaching her cautiously, "where's Daisy?"

"I've given her the day off. She's gone to William's father's farm."

"Really?"

"That's what I said."

"I was under the impression she wasn't keen…"

"Well, she changed her mind. Now, if you don't mind, I need to get on with this breakfast."

Feeling slightly bewildered, Mrs Hughes turned and headed for the stairs. She needed to do her rounds and she was worried about the fires – she wasn't sure Mrs Patmore would have thought to find someone to light them in Daisy's stead.

When she entered the library it was to find Anna plumping up cushions on her own, but, fortunately, with a fire in the grate.

"Anna? Why are you on your own?"

"I sent Lily to go and do the fires after we realised they weren't lit."

"Oh," said Mrs Hughes, feeling relieved, "thank you. I'll help you in here."

Moving forwards, she picked up another cushion. They worked in silence, finishing the sofas and dusting. As they worked, Mrs Hughes glanced at Anna repeatedly, trying to work out if she was coping. She certainly looked very tired, and Mrs Hughes wondered with a stab of concern when she'd last slept. As they approached the door to move on to the dining room, she reached out and touched Anna's arm.

"How are you bearing up?" she asked gently.

Anna met her gaze. "I miss him every second. And I can't bear the thought of what might happen. But I'm not going to give up until we've heard…"

Mrs Hughes nodded. "I'm sure it won't be long now. We're all behind you, Anna."

"I know. Thank you, Mrs Hughes," she replied, and there was gratitude mingling with the sadness in her eyes.

Wordlessly, Mrs Hughes patted her on the shoulder and gestured for her to leave the room first. She followed, glancing around the library briefly as she left. She was a bit behind schedule, but fortunately at that point a rather breathless Lily turned up to relieve her, having lit all the fires.

After that, the rest of her rounds went quickly, and she soon found herself back in the kitchen. No sooner had she sat down, however, than Mr Carson turned up.

"Morning Mrs Hughes… Could I have a word?" He looked rather harassed so she didn't ask why, but stood up again and followed him to his pantry. She felt slightly tense – did this mean he'd heard news of Mr Bates?

As soon as they'd gone into his pantry, she closed the door and turned to him.

"Have you heard any news?"

He looked at her apologetically. "No, I'm sorry."

"What is it that you need to talk about then?" she asked, her pulse returning to its normal rate after the few moments of nerves.

"Well firstly, I thought I'd let you know that Isis has just been brought back by some children from the village."

Mrs Hughes smiled. "I am glad. We needed some good news."

"We did," he replied, inclining his head, "However, because we have had no news of Mr Bates, I'm not sure it's quite appropriate for the Servants' Ball to go ahead…"

"I completely agree," she answered. If she was honest with herself, she'd barely thought about the ball with everything else that had been happening, but she wasn't going to admit that slight organisational lapse to Mr Carson.

He was looking relieved. "I hoped you'd say that. No doubt they'll be disappointed…"

"I'm sure they will be, but they understand that it's inappropriate and I think many of them will be on our side," Mrs Hughes said firmly. "We can hold it when everything's -"she stopped, having been about to say "died down", but unable to bring herself to mention death.

He seemed to understand though. "Yes," he agreed, and there was a gentle finality to his tone. She shot him a grateful smile, and turned to leave.

"Mrs Hughes, one more thing?"

She turned back round. Mr Carson was looking shrewdly at her.

"Have you seen Thomas this morning? He's gone missing again."

She frowned. This was getting far too suspicious for her liking.

"No, but I'll keep an eye out and let you know if he turns up."

"Thank you," he nodded, and followed her out of the room and back to the table for breakfast.

Two hours later found a rather hassled Mrs Hughes leaving her sitting room for the bachelor's corridor to make sure a room was made up for Lord Hepworth, who was due to arrive later that afternoon. There were too many guests in the house for both her and Mr Carson's stress levels, although she knew that if it were quiet she'd be bored. Before she could go very far, however, she was almost bowled over by Thomas rushing past her towards the stairs leading up to the menservants' quarters. She glanced at him, and then did a double take – he was in, there was no other way to describe it, a right state.

"Thomas!" she exclaimed. He stopped and turned round, his face impassive.

"Where on earth have you been?" she admonished, taking in his flushed cheeks, messy hair and the mud on his ripped clothes. "Go and clean yourself up immediately! I hope nobody's seen you?"

"Well, Mrs Hughes, that's actually where I was going, believe it or not," he replied rudely.

"There's no need for that cheek," she said, sending a formidable glare in his direction. He turned and stomped upstairs, and Mrs Hughes resumed her mission to ensure all the guests had rooms, shaking her head and making a mental note to tell Mr Carson about her encounter.

She didn't have to wait long. As she headed back downstairs, having ensured everything was ship shape in Lord Hepworth's room, she bumped into Mr Carson, who was on his way to the dining room.

"Oh, Mr Carson," she said, "Thomas is back."

"Is he now? And what was his excuse?"

"He didn't give one," she admitted, "and I forgot to press him for one after seeing the state he was in. I've never seen anything like it; he was covered in mud and twigs."

She suppressed a smile at the sight of his eyes widening in horror at the thought of one of his footmen looking such a disgrace.

"Well I hope he's tidying himself up!" Mr Carson said, looking mortified.

"He said he would, although not without a quick dose of his usual cheek."

Mr Carson sniffed disapprovingly. "We need to do something about him. I'll mention it to His Lordship later."

"Good," she replied, "let me know how it goes."

"Of course," he nodded to her and continued on his way. She, meanwhile, headed back down to the kitchens to see how Mrs Patmore was getting on. It was good of her, Mrs Hughes mused, to give Daisy a day off on a day when there were multiple guests for dinner. She had to confess to herself, she had been worried that Mrs Patmore made Daisy's life hell for a while, but Mrs Hughes could tell that deep down the formidable cook was very fond of the girl. Still, it wouldn't hurt for Daisy to be given a bit more credit for her work; Mrs Hughes resolved to keep an eye on her self-confidence.

The afternoon passed in a haze of store cupboard hell, excessive rounds due to the presence of guests and making up for being short-staffed by helping the maids. As Anna and O'Brien rushed off at the sound of the dressing gong, Mrs Hughes dragged herself into her sitting room and sank gratefully into her chair, closing her eyes and wondering for what felt like the twentieth time that day if she was getting too old for this.

She stayed there for a good few minutes, gathering her thoughts and summoning her energy for the evening. When she left her sitting room, she made a cup of tea and watched Mrs Patmore and Daisy preparing dinner as she drank it. Having satisfied herself that everything was going to plan in the kitchen, she headed upstairs to give the dining room the once over before they went in.

Mrs Hughes was not in the least surprised, nor was she displeased, to find that she was not the only one doing this. Mr Carson and his ruler were already hard at work when she arrived, so she busied herself with the silver. When everything was perfect, she and Mr Carson headed down to the kitchens together. He glanced around, and, having ascertained that nobody was listening, muttered to her, "I've spoken to His Lordship about Thomas. Come to my pantry."

She merely nodded; she could tell from his tone that he hadn't got the result they were both hoping for. Sure enough, when they entered his pantry, he was looking grim.

"He wouldn't let you fire him then?" She enquired, not failing to notice how disgruntled Mr Carson looked.

"Worse," he replied, sighing, "he wants to give him a trial as valet."

Mrs Hughes was taken aback.

"What? But I thought he didn't trust him?"

Mr Carson looked as confused as she felt. "That's what he said last time we spoke about it. But something's happened to change his mind… He said there was more true goodness in Thomas than he'd realised, or something along those lines."

Mrs Hughes restrained herself from snorting with great difficulty. Mr Carson seemed to read her mind.

"I know," he said, looking slightly amused at her expression. "But there's nothing we can do for the moment. We need to at least wait for this Bates business to be resolved."

Ignoring the sinking feeling in her gut at the mention of Mr Bates, she offered a word of agreement before excusing herself to go and help with dinner. As she watched Mr Carson head back upstairs to serve, she repressed a sigh. She felt a bit guilty for pining over her unrequited love when Mr Bates was facing execution, but at the same time it just reminded her that life was too short. She'd have to tell him, one day, she decided. Then she smiled bitterly to herself, because if she'd had sixpence for every time she'd resolved to do so over the years, she certainly wouldn't have needed her housekeeper's wages.

Once Mrs Hughes was sure that dinner was under control, she headed back to her sitting room. The reminder of Mr Bates followed by her musings about Mr Carson had left her feeling somewhat down, and so, with a few minutes of escaping the world in mind, she settled herself at her desk with her book, moving a few papers around to make it seem as if she were working. She had barely opened it, however, when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," she called, hastily turning to the pile of paperwork and pushing her book to the back of her desk. She turned around as she heard the door close, and felt a slight pull at her heartstrings as she saw Anna standing there, looking utterly dejected.

She forced a smile as she stood up and crossed the room, saying, "What can I do for you, Anna?"

"I've just spoken to Lady Mary," Anna said, chin in the air but voice wavering slightly, "she says she's going to America for a while and she's agreed to take me with her. I've always wanted to see America, so at least I've got a plan."

Mrs Hughes regarded her sympathetically, trying not to let any other emotions come across in her expression. "I suppose so. I still can't be glad you'll be leaving here... But it's good news that you won't be casting off entirely." She added, trying to put a hint of optimism in her voice and not doing very well.

Anna's bottom lip was quivering now the way it always did when she was upset. Mrs Hughes felt a huge pang of sadness and fondness for her as Anna stuttered, "It's only… a…"

Deciding to put her out of her misery, Mrs Hughes murmured, "I know." Stepping towards her, she tried to console her. "Just so's you know, you're highly valued by all of us." She put a hand on her arm and tried to make eye contact with her as Anna nodded, clearly trying and failing miserably to calm herself down. Mrs Hughes lowered her voice to a whisper, now having to make a valiant attempt not to cry herself. "Both of you. Very highly valued."

As she watched Anna stand crying in the middle of her sitting room, she decided it was time to drop all hint of professionalism. Screwing up her face slightly to keep her own emotions in check, because she needed to be strong for Anna, she stepped forward, pulling her into a hug. They stood there for a few minutes, Anna crying desperately into Mrs Hughes' shoulder as the housekeeper patted her on the back, a tear trickling down her own cheek.

Finally, when Anna's sobs had subsided somewhat, Mrs Hughes let go of her and leaned back as if to examine her. She looked absolutely exhausted.

"You need to go to bed, my girl."

Anna looked up and opened her mouth as if to protest.

"No buts," Mrs Hughes interrupted firmly, determined that she rest. "You're no use to man or beast if you collapse from exhaustion."

Anna nodded resignedly and turned to leave. As she reached the door, she paused and turned around. Mrs Hughes looked at her questioningly.

"Mrs Hughes… Thank you. For everything." She said, looking slightly guilty.

"There's no need," Mrs Hughes replied softly. She cared very much about her staff and Anna had been one of her favourites; she didn't mind showing it. Goodness knows, she thought, it was necessary – she'd rarely seen anyone who needed a bit of support more than Mr and Mrs Bates. She didn't need to say all of this, though; she could tell that Anna knew, from the faint smile that she gave her as she left. Sighing, she gave up on any thought of some time to herself and headed back to the kitchen to help carry the food upstairs for dinner.

Later on that night, after most of the servants had gone to bed, Mrs Hughes found herself walking to Mr Carson's pantry. At the servants' dinner, there had been gossip about Lady Mary breaking off her engagement, and rumours flying about Mr Crawley's involvement. Mr Carson had put a stop to the conversation the moment he walked in, but Mrs Hughes knew he would be able to give her an accurate account of the events and, of course, it was a chance to spend time with him.

She knocked and entered, smiling at the fact that he'd already got a bottle of wine and two glasses out. He smiled too.

"I thought you'd turn up wanting to know the news."

"How well you know me, Mr Carson," she replied, accepting a glass and sitting on the chair opposite his. They sat in silence for a moment, sipping their wine.

"So?" she asked, "what happened?"

"Well, Lady Mary told Sir Richard she couldn't marry him and he shouted a bit. Mr Crawley heard him; he went dashing past me into the library."

"And you didn't try to stop him?" Mrs Hughes asked, smirking.

Mr Carson raised his eyebrows enigmatically. They both knew that in his fondness for Lady Mary he'd wanted nothing better than Matthew to give Sir Richard a piece of his mind.

"Well, I heard Sir Richard taunting Mr Crawley, and then Mr Crawley called him a bastard and punched him."

Mrs Hughes let out a noise that was somewhere between a gasp and a laugh.

"And how did he react to that?"

"I could hear them fighting, so I went to get His Lordship; he was just coming downstairs and he went in and stopped it. Then the Dowager Countess arrived and went hurrying in… Coming out with her usual remarks, you know the type."

"I do," Mrs Hughes smiled. "Will she marry Mr Crawley now, then?"

"As far as I'm aware he hasn't asked her, but I do hope so…"

"You wouldn't part with her to a less worthy candidate," Mrs Hughes said shrewdly, unable to prevent her expression from showing her lack of understanding at exactly why he was so protective of Lady Mary.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again, Mrs Hughes; we will never see eye to eye on this."

"How right you are," she replied, taking another sip of wine and ignoring the little voice at the back of her mind that was saying _you're just jealous_.

"Oh, I meant to ask you," Mr Carson was saying, "Where's Anna been all evening?"

"I sent her to bed," Mrs Hughes answered, her face falling. "She came to see me earlier to tell me that she's going to America with Lady Mary. She was very upset and she looked like death warmed up. I checked on her about half an hour ago; she was asleep, thank the Lord. I don't think it's something she does very often these days."

Mr Carson was watching her with an odd expression on his face.

"What?" she asked, feeling a bit confused.

"They're very lucky to have you." He said simply.

"What do you mean?"

"You're like a second mother to them. I care about them, of course, but they'd never come to me the way they do to you."

Mrs Hughes was slightly taken aback.

"You flatter me, Mr Carson."

He didn't reply, merely raising his eyebrows in a way that said he was just telling the truth. Her cheeks felt rather warm. She finished her wine and stood up.

"Well, I think I'd better get to bed. Thank you for the wine."

He stood up as well. "Goodnight, Mrs Hughes."

She could feel his eyes on her as she left the room but she didn't look back. She didn't know how to feel; she didn't want to read too much into his compliments and she was still too distressed by the lack of news about Mr Bates to feel happy. _Only time will tell_, she thought to herself, _only time will tell_.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Okay so I shouldn't actually be allowed to write multichaptered fics because I'm a terrible person and I don't update them. I will finish my Harry Potter one at some point and then I PROMISE to either stick to one-shots or only publish multichaps after I've finished them. Anyway, here is the final chapter of Survivor's Guilt: I hope it isn't a disappointment after such a long wait! I don't really deserve it, but please do review if you have time, I'd love to hear thoughts! Lots of love to all of you in the Chelsie fandom, and if anyone has Tumblr please follow me; username's lizcoops! L x**

The next morning, Mrs Hughes woke up at the usual time, dressed in one of her usual dresses and arranged her hair the usual way, all with the now usual anxiety in the pit of her stomach. She hastened downstairs and was relieved to see that Mr Carson was already in his pantry.

"Mr Carson?" she asked, popping her head around the door. He looked marginally surprised.

"Mrs Hughes. To what do I owe this very early visit?"

"I wondered if there had been any telegrams…"

His expression softened; she tried to ignore it, because it was threatening to have the effect both of making her weepy and, bizarrely, making her blush. His answer was not a surprise, but still a disappointment.

"No, I'm sorry. You know I will come to you directly I hear news."

She forced a smile. "Of course. Forgive me, it just seems to be dragging out endlessly."

"I feel the same. It shouldn't be too much longer now," he replied, without any real conviction. Still, she appreciated his continued attempts at optimism; they helped her to keep her own chin up. There was a pause, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Then Mr Carson spoke again.

"While you're here, I meant to tell you last night – Sir Richard is leaving on the 9 o'clock train."

"Good," Mrs Hughes answered, not bothering to conceal her satisfaction that they wouldn't be seeing him again, "I'll make sure the room is cleaned as soon as breakfast is over. Talking of which, I'd better go and make sure all the upstairs rooms are ready."

He bade her good morning, and she set about her morning rounds, continuing her resolution to always be busy and allowing her only distraction to be the inviting thought of a strong cup of tea with her breakfast. If she allowed room for anything other than work and trivia in her head, it would undoubtedly be Mr Bates, and occasionally Mr Carson, who occupied her thoughts, both of whom would invariably cause sorrow (albeit for different reasons) and neither of whom she wanted to detract from her professionalism.

When breakfast was over, Mrs Hughes bustled off to the room Sir Richard had been sleeping in to sort it out. Anna was still doing Lady Mary's bedroom and the other maids were all busy with other tasks, so she was on her own. Having stripped the bed, she was busy polishing the bedside table when Mr Carson burst unceremoniously through the door.

"Mr Carson!" she exclaimed, "what-?" It struck her when she saw his face, and she didn't need him to tell her what had happened; she could see by the light in his eyes and the wide smile he so rarely allowed full reign. "He's been reprieved?" she gasped, needing confirmation.

"He has. Where's Anna?"

"In Lady Mary's room." She followed him as he turned and marched out of the room, half running to keep up with his long strides. As they walked, she felt exhilarated by the rush of emotions overcoming her – relief and happiness, mainly. It seemed to take an age to get to Lady Mary's room, despite the quickness of their pace, and when they arrived it was to find both Anna and Lady Mary there.

Mr Carson spoke first. "Excuse me, m'Lady. Anna, you must come at once to the library. There's been a telegram; he's been reprieved."

Anna seemed to sway slightly; Lady Mary moved forwards and took her hand as she looked at Mrs Hughes, who nodded in confirmation. The four of them made their way downstairs as quickly as possible, and before long were standing in a line in the library in front of Lord Grantham, who greeted them with a beam.

"Papa, is it really true?" Lady Mary asked, looking at him earnestly while still supporting Anna.

"It is, thank goodness," he replied.

"How?" stuttered Anna, who looked as if she could scarcely believe it and was gripping Lady Mary's hand.

"The home secretary finds that many details call into question the case of a premeditation. The point is he will not hang."

As Mrs Hughes stood there, hearing those words from Lord Grantham's mouth, the initial euphoria began to dispel and leave a sheer sense of dizzying relief. It rushed to her head like a strong alcoholic drink and she swayed ever so slightly, unnoticeable to anybody except the man standing beside her. He always noticed. She felt him shift imperceptibly beside her; his fingers brushed against hers and remained there. It was more touching fingers than holding hands, but it was all she needed to steady herself.

"But it's still life imprisonment?" Anna was saying.

"Don't dwell on that, not now. It's life, not death. That's all we need to think about." Mrs Hughes' respect for Lady Mary went up a little bit. She'd never liked her very much, but she had to admit she'd been a rock for Anna throughout this whole ordeal, and that was something they had in common.

"We've a task ahead of us, it's true. Bates will live and he is innocent - in time, we'll prove it and he will be free."

Mrs Hughes glanced up at Mr Carson. He gave her a small smile, which she returned, partly because there was now a chance that Mr Bates might come back, and partly because she could still feel his hand against hers.

""I must go and see him, today. They will let me won't they?" Anna looked desperately at Lord Grantham and Mrs Hughes followed her gaze, hoping he would say yes after all Anna had been through.

"I can't believe they won't. I'll get Pratt to run you into York."

Anna, laughing and crying, nodded gratefully and turned to leave with Lady Mary. Mrs Hughes patted her on the arm with a smile as she passed, then she and Mr Carson turned back to Lord and Lady Grantham, who exchanged a look before Lady Grantham said, "I think we can still hold the Servants' Ball. How long do you need to prepare for it?"

Mrs Hughes glanced at Mr Carson, who was looking at her expectantly. She suddenly felt very bold, and replied, "I think we could be ready by tonight, m'lady."

"Excellent," Lady Grantham smiled, "now you'd better go and tell everyone downstairs, they'll want to hear the news!"

"Very good, m'lady," replied Mrs Hughes, trying not to smile too broadly as she and Mr Carson turned and left the room. As soon as they were outside, they both dropped their professionalism and allowed themselves to grin and laugh their way down the stairs, exchanging words of relief and joy. In the hallway, they paused and looked at each other.

"Do you want to tell them?" Mr Carson asked her, eyebrows raised.

"No, you do it," she replied, "you knew first, after all!"

"All right," he straightened his tie and headed for the door. She followed him, trying to mask her excitement at the prospect of their delivering the good news and seeing everyone's reactions. When they entered, she made sure that only a small smile playing around her mouth gave any indication of how she was feeling. Mr Carson cleared his throat.

"I have an announcement to make," he began, surveying the room with a rare twinkle in his eyes, "we have received news of Mr Bates. It seems he has been reprieved." As everyone gasped and excited chatter broke out, he turned and smiled at Mrs Hughes. She felt a not unpleasant jolt somewhere in a stomach as she returned it.

Mr Carson directed his attention back to the others. "So, that is the news! It only remains for me to add that we will be holding the Servants' Ball tonight after all."

They all gasped again, looking delighted. Thomas stared at Mr Carson, saying "Tonight? Are you serious?"

"Mrs Hughes thinks we can manage it." She exchanged a look with him and acknowledged it, unable to feel as excited as the rest of them. It would be an enjoyable evening, but it would also mean a lot of hard work and a lot of watching Mr Carson dance with all the ladies of the house, who were all so fond of him that, much as she hated to admit it, it did make her feel a bit jealous.

"I never thought they'd hang an innocent man," Mrs Patmore was saying, although she looked very relieved for someone who was sure it wouldn't happen, Mrs Hughes thought, repressing a chuckle.

"He wouldn't have been the first," chipped in Miss Shaw. Mrs Hughes shot her a look. She wasn't sure she liked Lady Rosamund's new maid, with her opinions about everything and her rather low-cut dress.

"Well it's a relief, it is. I don't mind saying it." Miss O'Brien said. Mrs Hughes smiled at her.

"But he has to stay in prison?" Mrs Patmore was looking at Mr Carson, who answered her, "Well, until they prove he didn't do it."

Mrs Hughes decided to interrupt at this point. She was feeling slightly stressed at the idea that they had a matter of hours to prepare a ball and the maids were bound to be distracted all afternoon from the excitement.

""If you don't mind, we can worry about that later. Right now we have a great deal of work to do!" She shooed them all back to their jobs and went off to throw herself into her own. The only personal thought she spared for the ball all afternoon was that she would have a nice time, despite the inevitable lack of dancing with Mr Carson. She had her opening dance with His Lordship, after all, which was always good fun, and there would be plenty of people to talk to; she doubted Anna would be doing much dancing either and she wanted to hear how Mr Bates was faring.

That evening, when the family were relaxing after dinner and the Great Hall had been fully transformed into a ballroom, Mrs Hughes hurried up to her room with half an hour to spare to get ready. She was not a vain woman, but she liked to make an effort for the Servants' Ball. As such, she rooted around in the back of her (not exactly full) wardrobe for a dress similar to her usual ones, but with a few sparkles on it. She had found (and bought) a little ornament for her hair in the village a few weeks ago which matched, and, after redoing her hair, she placed it towards the back. Next, she rummaged around in a drawer until she found an old lipstick that she used to wear on her afternoons off as a maid, and put that on too. Finally, she took the bottle of perfume that she kept for special occasions and days when she knew she would be spending a lot of time in the company of Mr Carson, and dabbed it onto her neck and wrists.

Hurrying downstairs to muster the servants and take them all off to the Great Hall, she entered the kitchen to find it half full; unsurprisingly, all of the maids except Anna were absent, clearly still dolling themselves up. Everyone looked very smart in their glad rags, Mrs Hughes thought, as she rounded the table to stand next to Mr Carson, who was looking impatient that not everybody was ready. He glanced down at her as she took her usual place at his side and coughed slightly. She looked at him enquiringly.

"You look very nice," he said awkwardly. She tried to subtly take a deep breath in order not to blush too much.

"Thank you, Mr Carson," she replied, hoping that her smile looked calm and wasn't showing the inner rush of excitement she was feeling, or the host of questions buzzing around her brain.

When they were all present and correct, Mr Carson offered his arm to Mrs Hughes, who took it with a graceful smile and a slightly shaking hand.

"Are you cold?" he muttered to her, as they ascended the stairs, the rest of the staff in tow.

"A bit," she lied, "but I'm sure I'll warm up during the dancing."

"Indeed," he replied vaguely, his brow furrowed.

They walked in silence to the Great Hall, each lost in their own thoughts. When they arrived, the servants all spread out. Shortly afterwards, the family and guests arrived, and before long Mrs Hughes found herself beginning the opening dance with Lord Grantham.

"The ball is as impeccable as always, Mrs Hughes, despite the short notice," he said, smiling down at her. She smiled back; it was always nice to receive a compliment on her work from her employers.

"Thank you, your Lordship," she replied. "It was worth the short notice to be able to celebrate the good news,"

"I quite agree," Lord Grantham said approvingly, "It really is excellent."

The rest of the dance was spent speculating about whether Mr Bates would be released, and commenting on everyone else's dancing, the music and the weather. It was, as always, very enjoyable, and Mrs Hughes found she was easily able to end the dance with a smile and fairly cheerfully make her way over to get a drink, with which she retreated to a spot against the wall.

She scanned the room, allowing a small smile to play around her lips as she watched Mrs Patmore dancing with Matthew and suppressing an eye-roll at how smug Thomas, who was currently dancing with Lady Edith and had just danced with the Dowager Countess, was bound to be the next day.

As Thomas and Lady Edith danced out of her line of sight, they revealed Mr Carson and Mrs Crawley. Mrs Hughes felt her smile slip slightly. She watched as they danced gracefully, and couldn't help but feel a twinge of amusement at Mr Carson's expressive eyebrows. At the end of the dance, she watched as they went their separate ways and decided she might go and get herself a drink. She glanced around as she made her way over to the table; Mr Carson seemed to have disappeared. She fought back a sigh as she helped herself to some wine, feeling angry with herself for allowing this to affect her so much. She had done very well for herself; she had a very senior position in a distinguished house. She worked with some wonderful people, she was healthy and comfortable. So why, she thought, taking a sip of the wine, _why_ did she feel so miserable, when Mr Carson was her best friend? She felt selfish for wanting even more from him, more than the considerable amount of time they already spent together.

Mrs Hughes drained the glass and set it back down on the table, wondering whether she could get away with sneaking off to her sitting room until the ball was over and it was time to clear up. Deciding that she could, she began to make her way towards the door. As she approached it, however, Mr Carson walked through it.

"Mrs Hughes?" he said, coming over to her, "where are you off to?"

"I thought I might go to my sitting room," she replied. At his questioning look, she added, without meeting his eyes, "I've a bit of a headache."

"That's a shame," he replied quietly. "I was hoping you might want to dance."

"What?" she said, taken aback. Then, realising how rude she must sound, she hastily corrected herself. "I mean, pardon?"

She knew perfectly well what he'd said but wasn't sure whether she'd imagined it. Why should he ask her this year, after so many years of nothing?

"I wondered if you'd like to dance with me," he answered, looking her straight in the eye, "but if you're not feeling well enough, of course you must rest."

"Well, I daresay one dance won't do me any harm," she smiled, albeit shakily, and, taking his proffered arm, allowed him to lead her onto the dancefloor.

"Are you sure you're not coming down with something?" he asked, brow furrowed, as they began to dance. "You still seem a little shaky."

She flushed slightly. "I thank you for your concern, Mr Carson, but I'm sure. It's just the cold night."

"Hmm," he said, looking down at her thoughtfully, and then pulling her closer to him. She caught her breath and looked up at him, worried that their proximity to each other would be taken the wrong way.

"Mr Carson, I'm not sure it's wise to -"

"Nonsense," he said, seeming to have read her mind, "you're right – it is cold. And I am the butler and you the housekeeper. It is perfectly natural that we should look comfortable dancing together. Nobody will think anything of it."

Unable to think of an answer, she simply smiled up at him. He returned the smile and it spread to his eyes, his pupils dilated. She thought he had lovely eyes, and she was very much enjoying the opportunity to gaze into them.

"You're a good dancer," he murmured. She felt a small grin tug at the corners of her mouth.

"I've been blessed with a good partner." She felt as if she were blushing slightly, but continued to meet his gaze steadily as they danced. He seemed to be looking at her more intensely than before. She was aware of the fact that they were in a formal setting, but she was more aware of the feel of his hand on her waist – particularly when he moved it slowly down to her hip. Her breath quickened in spite of herself, and she could feel their clasped hands growing ever so slightly clammy. There was an exhilarating and yet terrifying rush of excitement and expectation coursing through every cell of her body. She was sure he felt it too, for she thought he looked a little uncomfortable, but not in a bad way, if that were possible. She parted her lips slightly, feeling as if she must say something to break the tension between them. However, at the movement, she noticed him drop his gaze – he was looking at her mouth. Suddenly, she no longer wanted to speak, but she kept her lips parted, because she was sure he was going to kiss her, and it didn't matter where they were because she'd wanted this for so long, she didn't have the willpower to repress it. She raised her face towards him slightly, at the same time as he tilted his downwards…

The band finished the song with a flourish and the sound of clapping brought Mrs Hughes back to her senses. The spell was broken; Mr Carson gave her a small bow as he released her, then straightened up, looking somewhat less composed than usual. She felt herself flush.

"I'd better go and make sure the wine isn't running low," Mr Carson stated, looking a bit disorientated.

"Yes," she replied quietly, "I think I'll go and see where Anna is."

It was a silly excuse, she thought, as she bade him farewell and hurried off towards the servants' staircase, Anna didn't need checking up on now, but she needed to get away and think. She went straight to her sitting room, crossed to the mirror and peered into it. She was blushing, as she'd suspected, and her eyes were brighter than usual. She realised that she didn't actually dislike this look. She was so used to being tired, stressed or strict that she'd forgotten what wonders happiness could do to one's appearance.

Happiness. That was definitely her overriding emotion at the moment. For whatever happened in the future, she was sure now that Mr Carson felt the same way as she did. And even if they merely continued to be the closest of friends, sharing a cup of tea or a glass of wine at the end of the day, relaxing in each others' presence and providing each other with relief from the stress of their jobs during the day, it didn't matter. Some things don't have to be said, she decided, and this was one of them. Perhaps one day, they would be a couple. Perhaps they would retire together. For now, however, she was comfortable in the knowledge that she was incredibly lucky to hold the affection of Charles Carson. And after all the worry, upset and guilt of the last few weeks, it was exactly what she needed. With a genuine smile, Mrs Hughes patted her hair into place, smoothed down her dress and left her sitting room to return to the ball.


End file.
